Thinking Christian

An “aesthetic argument for evolution”–I hope it’s obvious to you, just by looking at it that this is self-contradictory. When arguing from some fact to a worldview, one ought to be pointing toward a worldview that can accommodate the fact.

Richard Dawkins apparently takes an aesthetic argument as valid, yet as reported by Matt and Dana Higgins, he almost simultaneously supplies the material for his own refutation. They report from a lecture he gave in Austin,

[Dawkins says] “Evolution is more elegant than creationism.” In terms of evolution vs. creationism/intelligent design, he primarily argued from a point of aesthetics. His highly complex theories are preferable to the plain statement: “God did it.” Like saying that a couture dress is prettier than a dress made out of the living room curtains. Fans of “Gone With the Wind” may prefer the curtains. A matter of preference….

Later in the same talk he reportedly said,

Since there is no God and no moral reality, there is no morality that should be held by all persons at all times…. In “The God Delusion,” he strongly argues that morality evolves and changes with society (”the moral zeitgeist”).

So: apparently there is a strong enough argument for aesthetic realism/objectivity that we ought to take it as evidence on which to base our whole worldview. “Evolution is more elegant” is an objective fact, not a subjective opinion. But there is no moral reality. “Child abuse is wrong” is a subjective belief, not an objective fact. (Dawkins happens to agree with that subjective opinion, but that doesn’t make it objective in his mind.)

Does anybody see something being turned upside down there?

Ironically, this showed up (via Uncommon Descent) just minutes after I wrote this.

Posted by Tom Gilson under Arts and Culture & Ethics & Origins and Science | 5 Comments »

Robert Spencer writes of religion and slavery in world history, including:

[T]he pressure to end [slavery] moved from Christendom into Islam, not the other way around. There was no Muslim Clarkson, Wilberforce, or Garrison. In fact, when the British government in the nineteenth century adopted the view of Wilberforce and the other abolitionists as its own and thereupon began to put pressure on pro-slavery regimes, the Sultan of Morocco was incredulous precisely because of the audacity of the innovation that the British were proposing: “The traffic in slaves,” he noted, “is a matter on which all sects and nations have agreed from the time of the sons of Adam . . . up to this day.”

…

There is evidence that slavery still continues beneath the surface in some majority-Muslim countries as well—notably Saudi Arabia, which only abolished slavery in 1962, Yemen and Oman, both of which ended legal slavery in 1970, and Niger, which didn’t abolish slavery until 2004. In Niger, the ban is widely ignored, and as many as one million people remain in bondage. Slaves are bred, often raped, and generally treated like animals.

Some of the evidence that Islamic slavery still goes on consists of a spate of slavery cases involving Muslims in the United States.

[From FIRST THINGS: On the Square » Blog Archive » Slavery, Christianity, and Islam]
The entire article provides important historical and religious perspective on a practice that most tragically has not yet ended.

Posted by Tom Gilson under 21st Century Faith & Ethics | No Comments »

Following dozens of interactions here on the topic of moral relativism, it’s time to try to focus our discussions toward a more productive point.

Definitions
Moral realists (by way of review) believe that there are at least some moral principles that hold universally, objectively, and absolutely; they would obtain even if no human accepted them. These ultimate moral principles are grounded in God, at least in the view of realists who have been involved in discussion here. (Whether moral realism actually entails belief in God has not been much discussed here; we’ve all assumed the two beliefs are connected.)

Moral relativism is just the belief that there are no such absolute moral principles; that all morality without exception is based on some contingent circumstance (a circumstance that could be otherwise); that such circumstances typically involve some person or group of persons holding to particular moral principles; and that for every moral principle held by any person or group, it is at least conceivable that a contrary principle could be held by another person or group with equal justification. Continue Reading »

Posted by Tom Gilson under Ethics | 41 Comments »

“Who am I to say someone else’s morality is wrong?” the moral relativist asks. It is a stance of humility that he takes, at least on the surface; for how could he be so arrogant as to say what another’s values ought to be?

I choose the male pronoun here because of recent dialogues about this with Paul and doctor(logic) (also male), on this website. At one point Paul had this to say about something I had just written on relativism (my emphasis added).

PAUL: Tom wrote:

TOM: It changes the whole meaning of morality from right or wrong to powerful or powerless. That may not seem wrong, incoherent, or illogical to you, but it absolutely turns my stomach.

PAUL: Yes, I agree about the definition change to the extent that absolute morality disappears, and all that’s left is 1) within an accepted moral code, people say “A is moral” or “B is not moral,” but 2) when looked at from an incompatible culture, or better, from above both cultures, what is right is defined by those with power (the relativistic Golden Rule is “He who has the gold makes the rules”), However, that doesn’t mean that people don’t feel like things are right and wrong, which is why the words are used as if absolutes, even by relativists, but, strictly speaking (or, from the vantage of being above two competing systems), it does come down to a matter of power as to which system will prevail, or, better, seem to be absolute from within one culture.

This is where this “humility” leads. Feelings rule–the feelings of the powerful, that is.

Even one-to-one it is this way. The humble relativist may not decide another’s morals, but he will certainly insist on determining his own. He will not be subject to anyone or anything in making this choice.

Christian humility is nothing like this. It hesitates not a moment to acknowledge there is truth, truth that applies to all persons; but this is not our own truth. It comes from the One to whom all of us must be subject. We are, each of us, tested by it. Through it we come to know our need for grace, for none of us scores perfectly on this test.

Humility is in the reception of grace, not in the rejection of truth.

Posted by Tom Gilson under Ethics | 31 Comments »

From Gladio Mentis - The Sword Of The Mind: Hopeless Hypotheses:

For my purposes, a “hopeless hypothesis” is an idea that, even if true, either must be or should be treated as untrue for all practical purposes. This puts a special onus on anyone claiming a “hopeless hypothesis” to be genuinely true – they have to explain what alternative to believe, and give reasons how and why to do so.

…

The practical use of these ideas is as follows: First, the fact that even atheists see the value in certain ideas, even if they aren’t true, makes logically consistent systems such as Christianity deserving of at least their grudging respect. Second, some ideas being espoused by anti-Christians aren’t worth believing under any circumstances. Let’s face it, at least the Christian worldview is internally consistent – we can live out exactly what we believe. The atheist has to “pretend” to have free will, and “pretend” that life has meaning, even though that’s not a supportable part of their worldview. Thus the lesson from Pascal’s Wager, that Christianity is something worth pursuing even if all we get in eternity is oblivion.

That’s worth thinking about. I want to caution you, though, against reading into it something “MedicineMan” didn’t write. Some will think he means that Pascal’s wager proves Christianity. That’s not what he’s saying. I’ll leave it to you to read what he really did say; and you can also look to his two previous related posts here and here.

But I will highlight one point from the first quoted paragraph. Some say that unless we can prove the truth of Christianity (or any religion, for that matter), then our default position ought to be to presume there is no God. MedicineMan’s “special onus” here is a challenge that presumption.

Posted by Tom Gilson under Ethics & Evidences | 71 Comments »

(Update 12/31/07: This blog entry presents a philosophical position on ethics. If you landed here because you desire really to become a better person, I suggest you try this blog entry instead.)

Is it possible to become a better person: more moral, more ethical? Undoubtedly yes, if we know what “a better person” means. I believe we can make a credible case, however, that under moral relativism it doesn’t actually have a usable definition.

That’s not to say (not at all!) that moral relativists cannot become better persons. But they cannot do it under their own terms of morality. They can become better in ways that borrow from other views of morality, including Christian theism. We can all grow and mature and learn, and most of us do. I submit, however, that these are meaningless concepts under ethical relativism.

I ask my relativist readers and friends to stay with me now while I develop some definitions and explanations. I recognize that what I’ve said to start with here may raise objections right off the bat. So I’ll re-emphasize what I’ve already said: I believe you can and do grow and develop ethically. That’s not the question at issue.

What I purpose to show here is that your intuition or knowledge of your personal growth is logically at odds with your philosophy. It is so much at odds that if your philosophy were correct, then your belief that you are growing ethically could not be true. Under relativism, your ethical position is no higher or better now than when you were five years old, and so is mine.

Moral Relativism and Moral Realism
Moral relativism is, broadly speaking, the belief that there is no transcendent, fixed anchor point for right and wrong. Right and wrong are up to individuals, societies, or cultures to decide for themselves; and as they change, right and wrong can change with them. What is actually, truly, right in one place or for one person can be actually, truly wrong for another culture.

Let’s set this against the familiar concept that tastes and customs are locally determined. Tibetans eat everything with their fingers (no forks, spoons, or chopsticks). In Japan (I’ve been told by travelers who have been there) a good belch after a meal sends a welcome message that you really enjoyed the food. Those things things are right in those places, but socially unacceptable in places where the cultural heritage is European. There’s nothing controversial there.

Moral relativism says that just as belching or eating with one’s fingers may either be right or wrong, depending on context, so any other human choice may be right or wrong, depending on context. If a tribal culture believes sacrificing children to the “gods” is right, then in their tribe it is. If we believe it’s wrong here, then it is wrong here. It’s all a matter of context.

The Christian theist position, by contrast, is moral realism: moral principles exist independently of human beliefs or opinions. There are at least some things that are actually right or wrong, and would be right or wrong even if every human had the wrong opinion. If every person and every culture thought that sacrificing children to the “gods” was right, it would still be wrong anyway. For Christians, real morality is grounded in the character of God.

I use “ethical” and “moral” interchangeably (synonymously) in this article.

A Sense of Direction
I see my children, ages 12 and 16, growing ethically year by year. When they were very young they only thought of their own needs, and they were quite demanding about them. Now they quite often put others’ concerns first. They have a way to go yet, to be sure, but I’m confident they’ll continue to mature.

Growing and maturing are directional terms. Physical growth is in the direction of larger, heavier, etc. Mental growth is in the direction of having more knowledge, more capacity to process ideas, etc. Maturity is not just about getting older, but about moving in a direction considered to be more wise, knowledgeable, and so on.

When we speak of moral growth or maturation, we automatically think directionally. We think of a person moving toward being guided by better principles, holding to a better standard, thinking and living more in conformity to some higher ethic.

The Personal View
Now consider yourself: can you become a better person, morally? The relativist position says that what is right for you is what you have decided is right for you. You have the privilege to determine right and wrong for yourself, and presumably you have done so. You’ve defined right and wrong for yourself. It’s hard on that basis to see how you can be more right than you already are, if where you are now is right.

There is no direction for you to move; there is no “bigger” or “larger” (using physical analogies); there is no “ethically wiser” for you to move toward. In order for “ethically wiser” to exist, there must be something existing that is actually more or less wise. Wise is not equivalent to learned. It’s at least arguable that professors like Peter Singer or Ward Churchill, although quite learned, are not examples of ethical wisdom; or at least if they are, then wisdom becomes another directionless word, so we cannot use it to provide our needed sense of direction for moral growth.

So what does moral growth mean under relativism? Let’s consider some possibilities. Certainly it must involve moral change, an alteration of attitudes, beliefs, and/or behaviors. That’s a minimum.

Now, there’s one form of change that’s worth considering as an example of real growth under relativism, which is resolving personal inconsistencies. If I believe it’s right to sacrifice children to the “gods,” for the sake of next year’s harvest, and yet I also believe that every child’s life is of more value or worth than any crop could be, then I have an inconsistency to resolve. One of those beliefs ought to give way to the other, if not for moral reasons then at least for logical ones. (Let’s set aside for now whether our presumed duty to be logically consistent is a moral duty. That’s at least a possibility, and if so, it muddies these waters considerably, and it certainly doesn’t help the relativist position! My point here does not require us to resolve that, though.)

Which of those two beliefs–the child is more important than the crop, or vice-versa–should we set aside, for the sake of logical consistency? Taken individually it’s hard to see which one, by itself, is more logical than the other. We can’t easily settle the question by appealing to logic. The relativist will probably choose the one that she thinks is more morally compelling. That’s the position one commenter here has taken. He agrees that ethics are like matters of taste, in that each person can have his or her own opinion on every point. There are some matters, however, for which he is willing to sacrifice. That difference is, to him, what defines some opinions as matters of morality rather than of mere taste or custom.

Morally Compelling
So let’s camp there a moment. “Morally compelling” is either a directional term (there’s something I believe is really, actually more moral, so I find myself compelled to assent to it) or something else. That something else could be a gut feeling, it could be the customs of one’s social group, it could even be whatever gives the person a sense of permission to do what she wanted to do anyway. (I suspect there’s a lot of that going on in moral relativism.)

But in the case of our child sacrifice example, either position seems to be of equivalent value or worth. Either could be morally compelling. If one chooses the crops and kills the child, that could certainly be as moral (on relativism) as deciding to save the child and risk the crops. You couldn’t say that one who decides in midlife that he ought to save the child has grown morally, because there’s no directionality there. There’s no “higher” there to grow toward.

What, though, if he comes to understand there’s no relationship after all between such acts of sacrifice and the success of his crops; that child sacrifice doesn’t actually help anything? He might change his practice, but that’s not moral growth. It’s not a better, more ethical weighting of child vs. harvest. It puts the question aside entirely; it makes it irrelevant.

The Challenge to Relativists
Let’s bring this into a modern context with an actual current controversy. I could bring up many issues; embryonic stem cell research (ESCR) is as good as any. One side of this debate says that harvesting human embryos is a kind of child sacrifice, killing helpless innocents for the sake of older, more responsible persons. The other side says it’s not correct to regard embryos in that way. There is no moral reference point, on relativism, that makes one of those positions more right or wrong than the other.

Suppose we have a long debate and you convince me that ESCR is good, and should be heavily funded and pursued. Have I experienced moral growth? I’ve changed, in this hypothetical case. But am I morally better than I was? How could we say that I was, since we don’t know what “morally better” means? Let’s suppose again that you convince me that homosexual practice is a morally neutral matter, and that practicing homosexual relationships can be as moral as heterosexual marriage relationships. Again, for me that would be a (large) change in my moral opinion, but in what way have I become morally better for having changed? What does “better” mean in that context?

My challenge to relativists is for you to define “morally better” in a way that actually makes moral growth a coherent principle within your system of thought.

Some Cautions
You might say that you’re willing to give up any conception of moral improvement in order to save your moral relativism. Let me then ask you, are you more ethically mature now than when you were five years old? Are you less self-centered now than you were then, and if so, would you consider that a generally positive change or a neutral one? Another way of asking the question: suppose you were as self-centered today as you were as a five-year-old. Would you consider that acceptable? If you saw some 35-year old with the self-centeredness of a five-year-old, would you not consider that a case of arrested development?

But don’t get careless with invoking the word “maturity” here. It might just mean older. And be cautious also about introducing moral growth theories like, “learning that it’s good to do what promotes the greater happiness,” or “learning to avoid what harms others.” Those are either very dangerously close to moral realism, or else they are simply ways to generalize the statement of a position that still needs defending. If growing older leads one to adopt one moral theory in preference to another, what makes one moral theory better than another?

It’s up to you, relativist friends, to show how any of this actually means morally better. I don’t know how you can do that from within a coherent moral relativist framework. I welcome your responses to explain it. I am quite sure you have grown morally over your years of life, but I believe it takes moral realism for that actually to make sense.

Technorati Tags: Ethics, Moral Realism, Moral Relativism, Moral Growth

Posted by Tom Gilson under Ethics | 33 Comments »